


Olives

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, None - Freeform, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair redistributes his salad . . .Jim buys a clue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olives

## Olives

#### by Aouda Fogg

  
Not mine. No money being made, no infrigement intended. No olives were harmed in the writing of this story.  
This was the very first "food fic" (blame DebraC for the label *g*) I ever wrote . . .though certainly not the last! It's timed out from SoW3 -- which I deeply appreciate being part of! -- and I realized I've never posted it, or its friends ;) I'll be fixing that soon. Many thanks for the JusL ladies for their support of my silliness.   
  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

It was the olives that did it. 

The olives that opened his eyes. That brought about the revelation. Caused the epiphany. Made him buy a clue. 

However you wanted to say it, it was the olives that made him realize he and Blair were actually a couple. 

Actually, that wasn't quite right. The olives made him realize he was in love with his now official partner, his Guide, his roommate. Made him realize that they were _acting_ like a couple. Blair seemed totally oblivious to this fact (as he himself had been until right now), so Jim supposed they couldn't actually _be_ a couple without mutual consent. 

Christ, he was starting to sound like Sandburg. 

He guessed it was inevitable considering how much time he spent listening to the other man. He was doing it now. Well, he was pretending to do it now. Mostly he was just obsessing about olives. 

Olives that Blair had picked out of his own salad -- pausing in his treatise about his day in court only long enough to say "Ew! Olive infestation!" -- collected in his hand, and then dumped, an entire handful, into Jim's salad. 

That was definitely couple behavior. 

Jim sat back further into the booth and let the idea wash over him. He was aware of Blair's voice, the coolness of the fork in his hand, the lingering taste of the Italian dressing on his now olive-strewn salad. 

He was also aware of the fact that he really did love Blair Sandburg. 

How in the world had he missed it before? 

Which, naturally, led to the thought, "What else am I missing?" 

Pieces began to fall into place. Blair had given him his olives, because he knew Jim loved them, and because Blair hated them. Blair knew the little things about him. That he hated mint dental floss. How he liked milk added to his scrambled eggs to make them fluffy. That having Kleenex within easy reach around the loft at all times was a requirement. That there were times when he wanted complete silence when he came home, and times when he wanted to _be_ silent, but that the constant chatter Blair provided was the only thing keeping him sane. 

That last one wasn't so little. 

Neither was the way Blair's presence in his life made everything better. Even his salads. 

"You gave me your olives." 

That made Blair pause in the middle of an emphatic fork gesture. "Uh, yeah. You like olives." 

"Yep." 

"Ok." 

"And you know that." 

"Yeah." 

"How about we take our lasagna and our garlic bread home and go move your stuff upstairs?" 

The grin he got in return made it very clear Blair wasn't oblivious after all. 

* * *

End 

Olives by Aouda Fogg: aoudafogg@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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